


Departed

by Incessant_Darkness



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incessant_Darkness/pseuds/Incessant_Darkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In spite of having parted ways years ago, Midorima cannot help but show up when Akashi needs his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Departed

**Author's Note:**

> A window into one of two Yakuza AUs that occasionally cycle through my mind. Title has nothing to do with the movie of the same name, it simply fit.

“How is it that the only time I hear from you is when you require something from me?” Midorima asked far too casually considering the scene he had walked in on. There was a mess of bodies, mostly panicked and all gathered around the splayed form of Akashi’s body on a pale cream futon that was steadily being dyed red.

“That is a terrible coincidence, not my intention Shintaro. Besides, you can hardly accuse me of having designed this.”

By the time a clever enough retort came to Midorima he was already at Akashi’s side, slapping away inexperienced hands and extracting the hastily applied bandages to see what he was working with. “History evidences the opposite—you were shot?”

A tense silence fell over the room as Midorima spun around to glare at the gathering of worried underlings. Akashi drew his attention once more by clearing his throat and causing the pool of blood beneath him to spread just a little further.

At that, Midorima thought better of reprimanding the lot of them in that moment. “I need two sets of hands, everyone else can clear out immediately.” Midorima barked out with enough authority that not even the grizzled killers in the room thought to disobey. 

By the time one of the servants had a bowl of boiling water brought to him he was already elbow deep in Akashi’s blood, struggling to grasp the half-imploded bullet that was lodged against one of Akashi’s rib-bones.

It was a battle but Midorima knew enough to make it easier on himself by refraining from pointing out that Akashi rather desperately required a hospital. He simply had to get it done, that was what Akashi expected of him and that was precisely what Midorima was determined to do. After all, if Akashi had ever had any intention of going to the hospital he would have done so in the first place; it wasn’t exactly a luxury afforded to Akashi all things considered.

It was well into the second hour of damage control before the bleeding was stemmed, which was hardly soon enough considering how deathly pale Akashi looked. Midorima put in a few loose and temporary stitches and bandaged the wound before finally allowing himself to breathe. The second hour has been blissful compared to the first when Akashi had fought himself and them to remain still as Midorima had rooted through his flesh to retrieve the fragmented bullet. Now though Midorima would have been far more relieved to see the pain on Akashi’s face than the peaceful look of the near dead.

“It’s necessary that I watch over him.” Midorima said, loud enough that he could be certain his voice would carry to what would inevitably be a crowd of anxious underlings just outside the cracked door. “But he’s out of immediate danger for now.”

After a moment of steeling his overwrought nerves by replacing the hastily cleaned equipment back into his medical bag, Midorima removed his glasses and scratched away a smear of blood on one of the lenses before replacing them. Taking the washcloth from a bloody cloud of water, Midorima began to wipe away the blood that had dried on the skin of Akashi’s abdomen, feeling the hesitant rise and fall of his torso with every laboured breath. 

“I am more than capable of watching over him.” Midorima said at last into the stale silence, finally looking up at the one other man who had remained in the room throughout the whole ordeal. The new lieutenant, Midorima surmised and was irritated to find that the knowledge sat uneasy in him.

“It’s not as though I would just leave the boss alone with you. What about that makes sense?”

It was impossible not to twitch at the assuming tone of voice that the man had but thankfully—depending on his outlook—Midorima had grown rather familiar with dealing with obnoxious behaviour.

“It makes a great deal more sense than the implication that I somehow intend harm upon Seijuro having just saved his life.”

The man— Mibuchi Reo, because Midorima had grown tired of pretending that he wasn’t actually quite intimately aware of the people Akashi had chosen to surround himself with in the wake of the Miracles’’ departure—frowned and fixed Midorima with a less than pleased expression.

“Reo, leave us.” Both Midorima’s and Mibuchi’s attention snapped to the prone form on the futon between them, with eyes sunken but open. “And Shintaro don’t look so displeased by my survival.”

“You’ve lost quite a lot of blood, it’s best that you rest.” Midorima pulled the blood-drenched top cover over Akashi’s abdomen after a brief and tender examination to ensure that Akashi wasn’t bleeding out into his gut. “You barely survived, you need to behave if you expect to recover.”

“I’m sure I’ll recover just fine with you watching over me in that exacting way of yours.” Akashi’s lips twitched in what may have been a smile but it was clear he didn’t have the strength for it. “Reo, I’ve asked you to leave and I’m not entirely certain why it is I’m having to ask again.”

“But of course Sei-chan.” Reo replied with an exaggerated bow to express his displeasure as he made his exit.

“I see I’ve been replaced.” Midorima mused aloud as he took careful note of Akashi’s eyes, and the way they tracked and focused on his face in ways that were more promising than Midorima had dared to hope.

“That you’re here proves that isn’t true.” 

Midorima wondered if the expression of exhaustion Akashi showed him then was one he ever privileged his new supporters with. Somehow Midorima doubted it.

“You got yourself shot.” Midorima breathed out into the silence that had sunk in between them. It felt as though a lifetime had passed them by and somehow they had ended up back in the same place they had left each other. In reality it had only been two years since the now infamous sundering of the Miracles, and Midorima had shared Akashi’s company without animosity much more recently than all that. Still, unfortunate realities, most of them self-imposed, had kept them apart more often than not.

“You’ve made quite a name for yourself.” Akashi breathed out, his voice was tight and raspy with pain, but his eyes were clear and inviting and Midorima accepted the invitation by sliding Akashi’s head into his lap under the pretense of checking his pulse.

“I’m certain I’ve ruined it all by coming to your rescue.”

A shiver ran through Akashi and Midorima watched him fight it off, a hand resting in his hair with a soothing touch. “You always were the sentimental sort.” The bags under Akashi’s eyes were dark enough to look painted on and Midorima regretted that he could not do more to make Akashi comfortable just then.

Looking away to the screen door beyond which lay the impeccable garden that Akashi liked to look out on normally, Midorima shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the only one to ever say that about me. It’s a terrible joke Seijuro.”

“No the terrible joke is that the pretense under which you’re here undermines entirely my ability to in fact take advantage of your company.” Akashi’s hand came up to rub at Midorima’s knee and Midorima thought he could feel far too much longing in such a simple gesture.

A servant chose that moment to interrupt with a ceremonial haori in hand. Midorima said nothing of the fact that it was a downright waste to drape a perfectly exquisite haori over bloody sheets—particularly since Akashi’s life wasn’t exactly on the line any longer as far as Midorima was concerned, but Akashi had always been one for grand gesture when it suited him and Midorima wasn’t about to insist that it was a hollow gesture, or in fact even question it. 

“You may tell the staff he will be fine.” Midorima intoned as the servant made to leave. As optimistic as it was, Midorima trusted that Akashi did not want to die, and knew that there was little in the world as powerful as Akashi’s willpower. The servant nodded with a relieved bow and left hastily.

“Perhaps it was wrong to have let us all go our separate ways.” Akashi mused out of nowhere some hours into the night. Midorima’s hand found Akashi’s forehead briefly but it was swatted away almost immediately.

“I am not feverish or delirious, neither am I in shock Shintaro.”

“Considering that it was you who raised the idea of us all parting as a prospect, I fail to see where this is coming from.” Midorima frowned and resisted the urge to stretch out the stiff muscles in his neck lest it be seen as a weakness. Akashi had a peculiar look in his eyes and Midorima knew better than to trust it.

“You’re not the sort to have regrets. That would be too…sentimental.” Midorima concluded having fished around for the appropriate word.

“No. But I am glad you came today.” Akashi murmured, his voice low enough that there was no risk of him being overheard by any curious ears that may have been listening at the door. “Otherwise you may have had to accuse me of being sentimental.”

Midorima offered Akashi a wry smile and retuned to running a hand through his hair. “If I hadn’t come today, the only thing anyone could have accused you of is being dead.”


End file.
